YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

Yale University Library.
J 9002 05366 5 171 ription of "Christ Leaving the
Prretorium" will be found at page 5, line 26.*

DESCRIPTIVE CATALOGUE

OF

PICTURES

BY

M. GUSTAVE DORE.

ON EXHIBITION AT THE
DORE GALLERY,

35, New Bond Street, Londo.n.
J HrC'l 1873.

THE DORE GALLERY.

" Genius of the most comprehensive, the boldest, and the loftiest
kype is the verdict that must be passed by the most hypercritical
beholder of the few pictures which make up the Dore Gallery in
Bond Street. We say few, in the comparative sense of numbers,
when contrasting it., with other exhibitions ; but when we examine
the .vast execution of these paintings, and consider, besides, the vast
amount of smaller and desultory undertakings in the way of en
graving and book illustration which the artist has effected, we are
led to marvel at the industry, as well as power he possesses.' In
half-a-dozen of these oil paintings there is enough to stamp the
reputation of a life, nay, in even one there is such a world of wealth,
such a prodigality of art, that a painter might reasonably say, I
have succeeded, I have done enough. To the student and the lover
of pictorial art, more genuine enjoyment is to be found in the con
templation of this limited collection than in wearily travelling over
acres of gaudily-covered canvas on the walls of an annual exhibitioii.
There the eye pauses only occasionally on a production of true
genius, gulfed in a maze of mediocrity. Here thesuperabundence
of power almost dazzles the spectator, and he reverts from one
picture to another, taking in fresh points of beauty and excellence
at every glance." — Exam,ider.
" The first impression prodaced on the mind by the collection of
pictures by M. Gustave Dore, now exhibiting in Bond Street, is
intense surprise that the artist whose facile and powerful pencil has
produced so great a multitude of illustrative drawings, should have
been able to find a single hour which he might devote to the
execution of paintings on a large scale in oil. And then, reversing
the train of thought, an examination of these truly remarkable
pictares excites a corresponding astonishment at the &ct of such a
painter ever having at his disposal any time for the production of
drawings. The fact, however, remains that, however wonderful the
number and variety of his drawings, M. Dor6 has also been enabled
to produce a series of paintings which in their own department of
art are at the least worthy of the same degree of wondeting
admiration." — Bell's Weekly Messenger.
" Qustfl-ve Dor6 stands just now as the most startling art phen
omenon in Europe ; his genius at each turn changes, like colours in
¦a, kaleidescope, into something new and unexpected."-— Sa/iwAiy
.Review.

A short description of " Christ Leaving the
Prcetorium' will he found at page 5, line 26.*

DESCRIPTIVE CATALOGUE

OF

PICTURES

BY

M. GUSTAVE DORE.

ON EXHIBITION AT THE
DORE GALLERY,
35, New Bond Street, London.
1873.

K.BY TO THE Pr^^NCIPAL flQUI^ES IN THE J'iCTURE OP
"The Ti\iumph of Phpistianity."
Description at page 21.

^^ge\ic Sp,Vy,^

CHRIST.

^^'¦istizn Attt^'o'*^

Michael,
Thor. ...
Odin. CEsus. Mmerva
Venus. Cupid.
Previa \ Phoebus.
•' \ ¦ \ Pluto-
Druid Priests \ conducting \ Ceres.
\ \ Pomona.
and Priestesses. JUPITER. _ \ *^®
llsis .Ac,.
Osiris Jupiter's Mercury\
Eagle.
DAGON
Priests of Egypt. Bacchus.
Nimrod.
Bull Apis. Jupiter's Crown.
Ibis. Baal.
Anubis, Winged Lions.

CATALOGUE.
1. CHRIST LEAVING THE PR./ETORIUM.
(Siee of Canvas, SO feet by 20 feet).

(Description by Francis Roubiliac Conder, Esq., CE.)
It is to be desired that the visitors to the Dore Gallery
should be enabled to regard the great picture of Christ
Leaving the Praetorium in the light in which it was conceived
by the painter. All works of art are liable to criticism ; all
are subject to imperfections. But no judgment can be al
together satisfactory that is not based upon an appreciation of
the conception of the artist, and of the rules which he has
adopted for his own guidance.
M. Dore's style may be properly described as Romantic. It
is, in a great measure, original, and peculiar to himself. Like
every method of graphic expression, it has its limits and its
defects, at well as its merits. Its chief characteristic is an
extraordinary and vivid power. It has been remarked in the
most comprehensive review that has yet been given of M. Dore's
works, that of the British Quarterly, that the ideas of distance,
of multitude, and of movement, have rarely, if ever, been so
admirably expressed as by his pencil. In the Christ after
Judgment this remark is fully borne out. The mind is further
impressed by a deep and solemn pathos ; by the grandeur of
the central figure ; by the deep and varied emotions evinced
by the chief actors in the great tragedy ; and by the ignoble
tumult of the crowd. The picture can no more be grasped
by the mind in one short visit than a great spectacle can be
comprehended in a single glance.
In any representations of the events of sacred history that
are worthy the name of art, we may chiefly distinguish three
very different schools, or methods of treatment. The earliest
forms of Christian painting are often marked by the deep
fervour of their religious sentiment, but are quaint, stiff, and
even grotesque. To the Byzantine and early medioeval styles
succeeded the classical treatment of the great Italian masters,
who translated oriental scenes into Italian forms. Later still,
the realistic school endeavoured to reflect the events of the
first Christian century by using the colours of the oriental life
of to-day. Certain artists may be said to give the modern
Syriac version of the history recorded by the Evangelists.

M. Dore is a disciple of neither of these schools. He is an
eclectic artist. He has, however, learned much from each.
In the thorny crown which designates the illustrious Sufferer,
in the stains of blood on His seamless robe, and in the visible
halo which surrounds His head, we trace the influence of
Byzantine tradition. In the Roman architecture, in the helms
and leathern armour of the soldiers, the flowing toga and com
manding figure of the Procurator Pilate, and similar details of
the picture, we see the influence of Raffaelle and his contem
poraries. In the striking reproduction of Jewish physiognomy,
the forms and attire of the chief priests, the shadowy head
gear of many of the figures, we observe the marks of the
naturalistic school, and the reflection of that oriental habit in
which time is so slow to produce change. Over all this Dore
has cast the magic of a genius peculiar to himself. We seem
to gaze, not on a picture, but on the actual scene. We turn
our eyes from the majestic self-command of the Great Suf
ferer as if an over eager gaze were a sacrilege on the dignity of
His sorrow. We almost quail before the dark, saturnine
triumph of Caiaphas. We are daunted by the settled resolve of
his aged father-in-law. We feel a veritable pang on regarding
the sevenfold sorrow of her who, three and thirty years before,
had received the AVE of the angel. The rush, and din, and
turmoil of the crowd, the eager, gaze of the prominent figures
in profile on the right ; the tottering balance of the woman
standing on the very edge of the block of marble on the left ;
the floating garments, that tell of of a furious gust of wind ;
and the tossing sea of faces that fill the scene, from which the
eye passes on to rest on the distant mountains, and on the
blue sky beyond, affect the emotions with a sort of stupified
surprise such as is produced, in some persons, by the sudden
trampling and plunging of horses.
M. Dore has not attempted to give to his great picture a
more exact and rigid definition of detail than that of the sacred
history itself. Of the few years over which that Great Passion
extended, our accounts are brief and inartificial ; and the
criticism of twenty centuries has failed to harden the outline
of a simple narrative, or to recompose the prismatic spectra
into a single definite image. Such questions as that of the
identity of the Magdalene with the sister of Lazarus; of Salome
with the wife of Zebedee, and the sister of the Virgin ; of that of
Lebbceus with Judas (not Iscariot) ; are instances of undeter
mined doubt, in the presence of which it would ill become a
great artist to attach names to all the personages he brings on
his canvas. Again, the form of the Temple ; its exact position
in that vast altar-like enclosure, which is venerable alike to

the Jew, the Christian, and the Moslem ; the situation of the
Judgment Hall, the Tower of Antonia, the iron gate that led
from the precincts of the Citadel into the City ; — all these are
.questions of which we may well expect the solution from the
actual exploration of the Holy Land, but which are not as
yet clearly solved. We have before us, therefore, no more
an exact landscape, than we have an attempt to depict
such a scene as may be any day witnessed in Cairo or
Jerusalem. Landscape, architecture, costume, actors — all the
wonderful life, motion, and pathos of the moment, are the
work, not of photography, but of imaginative art. M. Dore
has clothed the great tragedy in a language of his own.
What Milton did, in noble words, to impress the mind with
the story of the temptation, Dor6 has done in no less noble
forms and colours, to bring before us this one moment, of
which words can tell little, and of which art alone can attempt
to give an idea. A little earlier, and the story would have been
untold. A little later, and the physical suffering displayed
would have been such as to pain intelligent devotion, and to
shock cultivated taste But, since that evening of the first
day of the week, toUowing the Passover to which fifteen hun
dred Passovers had pointed, when Cleopas and another disciple
walked sadly to Emmaus, this one scene of the Divine tragedy
has never yet been so worthily presented to the imaginative
emotion of mankind.
* The picture does not require a very detailed description, short desmp-
The scene is laid amid the buildings reared by Herod the "°"°f "'^'"¦''''
Great, and now (at the time represented), in the military occu- ^^^'^•"s the
pation of the Roman Procurator of Judea. At a distance is
seen one of the fortress-crowned hills, which composed and girt
in the City — Zion, Bezetha, Olivet — let each explorer name
it for himself The foreground is occupied by the mob,
through which the Roman guard is sternly cleaving a path.
The sordid forms of the malefactors who rear the cross are
shadowed by that of a malignant figure, who, in his in
ability to meet the gaze of his victim, betrays the self-condem
nation of him who was a thief, and kept the bag, Not far off
is another weird and eager form, strikingly like the Lazarus
sketched by Michael Angelo for the great picture by Sebastian
del Piombo, now in the National Gallery — a figure that recalls
to memory nine of the ten lepers that were cleansed. Above
the group of which these form part, stands the girl before-
mentioned, as eager to meet the eye of Christ as Judas is to
avoid it. The path to be trodden to Calvary lies to the right
of this group, almost barred by the cross. Roman soldiers,
of stern mien, but of very different individual types of

character, force back the crowd. A youth cries out, as if
struck by the soldier who pushes him. Close by is the droop
ing, majestic, heart-broken figure of the virgin-mother, robed
in her traditional colours of pale blue and white. Of the'
women who, two mornings after, came very early to the
sepulchre of Joseph of Arimathea, one has fainted,
and another, a magnificently-drawn figure, casts herself on
the ground. There are the very locks which Guido has
given to Mary of Magdala, and which other painters have
attributed to the Apostle John. The figure of the Virgin is
a conception so dignified, touching, and truthful, as to be well
called sublime. It would be the chief feature of any other
picture ; and of this, but for the yet diviner majesty that en
circles the Christ; in whom may be recognised the graphic
counterpart of the line " glimpses of His Father's glory shone."
In the distance, half indistinct through the aerial perspective,
and the gathering of the volcanic darkness, stands
Pilate at the head of the steps. The Procurator is
robed in a long toga of dusky red ; and is marked by his
gesture, not of washing his hands, as in some of the monkish
pictures, but of waving off remonstrance and responsibility.
Nearer to the spectator, and close behind the central figure,
is a group of three of the Chief Priests — Joseph Caiaphas,
gloomy in a malignant triumph ; Ananus, or Annas, his aged
father-in-law ; and a third, seen in profile, John, or Alexander,
or one of the kindred of the High Priest. In the rich attire of
this group we are reminded of the jewelled collar of Dives, in
the' terrible picture by Teniers, in the Peel collection.
We have exhausted the secondary and subordinate per
sonages of this great picture before mentioning the one which
chiefly arrests the attention, and produces a sense akin to awe
in the mind. The crown of thorns, the halo, the general cast
of features, the form of the seamless garment, are all those of
traditional, conventional, art. But the figure itself is nothing
short of an inspiration. The white colour, most appropriately,
though, if we are not mistaken, now for the first time, given
to the robe, the majesty of the figure, the sustained dignity
of its movements, the divine trouble of the eyes, combine to
form one of the very grandest conceptions yet brought forth
by human genius. Whatever be the opinions, whatever be
the creed of the painter, none but a deepl\- religious man
could have produced such an incarnation of all that is noble
in manhood. Alone among the chefs a'ocuvrc of Christian art,
since the fresco of Lionardo da Vinci has faded on the wall, the
Christ of Gustave Dore is the Christ of the Evangelists.

It would be out of place in what, is not a criticism, but
an explanatory introduction, to dwell on the masterly
drawing, the admirable chiaroscuro, the balanced and
modulated harmony of colour, the magic command of
aerial perspective, the solid painting, and the purely
mechanical merits of the work.
The proper point of view, according to the precepts of
Da Vinci, is at about ten feet from the northern end of the
Gallery, or sixty feet from the plane of the picture.
TlxawAner. — " Whatever faults or defects may be alleged against
M. Dore, it cannot be said that he has employed his extraordinary
artistic genius on trifling or commonplace subjects. In gravity and
magnitude of purpose, no less than in the scope and power of his
imagination, he towers like a Colossus among his contemporaries.
Compared with such a work as ' Christ Leaving the Prsetorium,'
which has just been added to the collection of M. Dora's paintings
in the DorS Gallery, New Bond Street, the pictures in Burlington
House look like the productions of a race of dwarfs whose m.ental
faculties are as diminutive as their stature. And it is not alone the
efforts of the English School of painting that appear puny in
presence of so great and gigantic an undertaking ; the work of all
the existing schools of Europe sinjis into equal insignificance, and
we must go back to the Italian painters of the sixteenth century to
find a picture worthy of being classed with this latest and most
stupendous achievement of the young French master. It is not
mprely the scale of this painting — which measures thirty feet by
t-yventy, and contains several hundreds of figures, many of them life-
size — ^that produces an imposing sense of vastness in the mind of
the spectator ; the power of conception and execution it displays is
also of Titanic proportions. For grandeur, and boldness of mass
and outline, and for energy and passion of expression, ' Christ
Leaving the Prffitorium ' suggests a comparison with the master
pieces of Michael Angelo, with whom M. Dord has certainly a closer
affinity than he has with Raphael. But this work is essentially
modem and original, both in sentiment and in style, notwithstanding
that M. Dor6 has — in our opinion, wisely — followed, or at least
allowed himself to be influenced by, the great Italian painters in his
conception of Christ and the Virgin Mary. We think, however,
that he might have dispensed with the halo that encircles the head
of Jesus, as that artificial contrivance no longer answers the purpose
for which it was designed, and as it assuredly tends to weaken and
neutralise the impression of reality that his picture so strongly
excites. It is no small proof of the high quality of M. Dora's
painting that the ideal figures of Jesus and Mary produce no jarring
effect with their intensely realistic surroundings, and that the
modified halo does not more pointedly obtrude itself.
"M. Dor6 has adhered closely to the gospel narratives in his
treatment of this sublime subject. The great congregation of High
Priests, Rulers, and other dignitaries who are witnessing Jesus set-

8
• ting our for Calvary, might appear improbable, and even give rise to
the notion that the painter had exaggerated their number solely for
the sake of the dazzling combination of brilliant and rich colours
they enabled him to introduce into the picture. But if it be re
membered that the trial or examination of Jesus on the charge of
blasphemy took place in the open space before the Court House
'called the Pavement, and in the Hebrew Gabbatha,' the Jews
having objected to enter within the building, as it was the preparation
day of the Passover, and they feared lest they should be defiled, the
presence of such an array of civil and sacerdotal dignitaries as is here
represented is fully accounted for. There is warrant in scripture for
all the main features of the picture, and it contains no incident that
conflicts with any express statement in the Gospels, although many
that owe their existence entirely to the artist's imagination. M. Dore
has filled in the bald framework of the records with great judicious
ness, and no one will be likely to complain because he has invested
the scene with elements of material splendour and magnificence,
of which they give no hint. He has made free use of his poetic
liberty, but has neither indulged in licence nor in caprice. The
picture is at once true to history, to hfe, and to art. There is more
energy and passion, than reflection and sentiment in the figures, but
the latter quahties are not altogether wanting in it. The broad
effects, however, predominate over the delicate, and corporal strength
and action are more efi'ectively depicted than the tender feelings of
the heart, oi' even than mental traits and conditions. AU is definite
and strongly marked, there are no impalpable and perplexing nuances
of character. Every individual is clearly intelligible by himself at
a glance, and his relation to the spectacle readily becomes apparant
after a little consideration. There is no inexaustible profundity of
meaning in the picture, no intricate complexity or subtlety of motive,
and there is an almost entire absence of mysteiy.
" The composition and grouping of this work are masterly. A
long, brnad flight of steps, leading from the Pavement occupies the
centre of the picture, and near the middle are recesses with broad
parapets on either side. If both of these parapets had been exposed
to view, they would have given the picture a stiff and formal ap
pearance. But while that on the right-hand, enclosing the recess
where the chief priests and elders, in elaborate, gorgeous silk
costumes, have taken up their position, is fully seen, the parapet of
the opposite recess, which is occupied by persons of inferior authority,
is nearly wholly concealed. And the central flight of steps has been
quite as cleverly dealt with. Christ has reached the lower part of
the great stair, and the straggling file of Roman soldiers which pre
cedes him has cleared away the double row of on-lookers fi'om the
right-hand .side, leaving those who have planted themselves on the
left side undistnrlied. The reason for this is obvious. The crowd
in the rip-lit-hand corner of the foreground is being pressed back by
the soldiers, and at tlie foot of the flight of steps three stalwart, halt-
naked, brutal-looking men are supporting the cross, which slants
athwart the last step and closes all egi-ess except by a narrow outlet

on the right. In that direction lies Golgotha. Besides, the people
who have lined the upper portion of the stair have broken their
ranks after Jesus passed, and are following up the procession, still
further relieving the monotony of the long flight of steps. The
picture is well-balanced and harmcmious, both in mass and in colour.
The chaste, capacious, and solid Grecian structures on either side of
the pavement consort admirably with the wealthy display of dress,
which really reqliired an imposing architecture fitly to set it off. And
other important purposes are served by these buildings. They throw
the pavement into shade, with the dense mass of people it contains,
among whom Pilate may be indentified by his purple robe, while
round the gable of the building on the left streams a broad shaft of
sunshine, that lights up and kindles the middle distance of the
picture. A splendid contrast of light and shade is thus obtained.
Through the open space between the edifices we catch a glimpse of
houses on a hilly part of the city, and of the afternoon sky, which
shows faint traces of coming storm.
" We have already indicated that the figures of Christ and Mary
are, to a great extent, conventional, and that the models M. Dore
has adopted are the best extant. But this circumstance does not
detract a whit from their intrinsic merit, which is of a very high
order. - It is not Ukely that Christendom will ever be completely
and unanimously satisfied with anj' representation of its great
teacher. We may say that incompatible attributes would need to
be reconciled before the highest conceivable ideal of Christ could be
realised ; but it appears to ns that M. Dore's Christ is by no means
an inadequate conception of the Jesus of history — of course, sub-
stracting the halo. The fault generally found with pictures of
Christ nowadays is that the emotional nature is made to predominate
over and, if we may say so, depress the intellectual. Whether this
be a real fault or not, it is a prominent characteristic of M. Dorfi's
Christ. The group formed by Christ and Caiphas and Annus, who
are seen standing on the right side of the steps immediately above
Jesus, the former looking on him with a dark and bitter coun
tenance, is exceedingly effective. But the group of the three Maries
at the foot of the flight of steps is, perhaps, still finer. An excited
young rough close beside them appears still to be shouting ' Ciucify
Him! Crucify Him !' The Virgin is pale, sad, and beautiful; and
seems to be mildly but earnestly beseeching the soldiers to allow
her to remain till her son shall pass by. Mary Magdalene is vehem
ently and scornfully importunate. But the discipline of the Roman
soldiers is absolutely imperturbable, and they execute their orders
strictly and remorselessly. The soldier marching down the steps, right
in front of Christ, is one of the most striking of the subordinate figures.
He is the beau-ideal of a half tamed Goth, with whom discipline
has not yet become habit and second nature, for keeping the step
obviously still exacts from him a conscious mental effort. A very large
proportion of the figures in the foreground possess a distinctive,
individual significance and interest, but our space does not admit of
our calling attention to more of them. We can only frirther express
our opinion that ' Christ leaving the Preetorium ' will enormously

lO
and justly increase and elevate M. Gustave Dore's high and well-
earned reputation."
Mornimj [^o-<f. — "The grandeur and versatility of M. Gustave Dora's
genius have never been displayed to such striking effect as in his new
picture, entitled 'Christ Leaving the PraBfcorium.' This magnificent
painting which is of colossal proportions, the canvas being 30 feet by
20 feet, is doubtless the finest pictorial illustration of the ineffable
tragedy of the Redemption that art has produced in modern times.
Arrayed in a seamless garment of snowy white with the crown of thorns
around His brows, the Saviour is walking down the steep stairs
leading from the hall called the Prastorium to Golgotha. The scene
is in the open air. Vast beyond computation as is the surrounding
assemblage. He is alone — not cue of His multitudinous enemies
daring as yet to approach His august person. This soUtude is
eminently poetic in sentiment. ' Exceeding sorrowful unto death,'
yet divinely majestic and serene, the Great Condemned, alone of the
mighty multitude swarming and clamouring around, preserves
meekness of aspect and sublimity of demeanour. Gentleness and
dignity, no less than grief and indignation, are depicted upon a faoe
of celestial beauty, and a viiribus, or halo of glory, shines around
His head, giving to His ironical diadem such lustre as tlie crowns of
earthly monarchs may not pretend to. At the foot of the stairs are
stationed the cross-bearers, a miscreant group, distinguished by that
mordant malignity of expression characteristic throughout all ages of
the Hebrew race in its lowest type. On either side the Roman soldiers
are roughly driving back an angry, surging crowd, packed densely
together, whose countenances bespeak the ferocity of their purpose.
Their eyes glare with the fire of triumphant hatred ; their gestures
are full of menace. You mar all but hear their terrific exclamation,
' Crucify Him ! Crucify Him !' Judas is there -with his felon scdwl,
and opposite to him, in sublimely pathetic contrast, stand the four
Marys, desolate and sorrow-stricken, but faithful to the last. The
' Mater Dolorosa' gazes at her son « ith an unspeakable look of fond
solicitude ; but Magdalene, who cannot endure the sight of His suf
ferings, turns her head tearfully aside, and, sinking prostrate on the
ground, is in danger of being trampled under foot by the brutal
soldiery. The composition of the groups is excellent ; their character
isation is highly dramatic, and nothing can be grander than the
perspective, the background rising in a succession of colonnades
and terraces to an almost mountainous elevation, crowned with the
massive pillars and porticoes of the Council Hall and the Pi-setorium.
Far away as the eye can pierce into dim mysterious distance are
myriads of excited spectators, filling hill and valley of the sur
rounding landscape, and clustering on the roofs and balconies of the
adjaoeni buildings, the most conspicuous figures being those of the
Chief Priesis, the Klders, the berilies and Pharisees, the members
of the Council, and the Jewish and Roman celebrities of the day,
all clad in picturesque costume. The conscience-smitten Pilate, in
his crimson robe of office, stands aghast — appalled at the conse
quences of his recreancy. In this splendid work the sublimity of
the theme would seem to have given corresponding exaltation to the
genius of tho painter. It is at once a poem and asermon, spoken

II
in the language, of colour with a splendour and melodiousness
of eloquence not to be surpassed.
" Though the artist's studio was severely damaged during the
siege of Paris, his chef d^ceuire, commenced in 18G7, happily escaped
unhurt, and is now to be seen, in nil its life-like brilliancy and
beauty, at the Dore Gallery, 35, New Bond Street.'
Art Journal. — "A picture to which M. Dore has devoted his utmost
energy, and which is in all respects the most remarkable work he has
produced. Indeed it is a painting which powerfully affects the
imagination. " It cannot for a moment be doubted that tho selection of the
incident commemorated by the picture under notice, evinces a rare
instinct of genius. No event of the Divine life can be selected
which is characterised by an equal amount of pathos and of grandeur.
The Transfiguration is a subject in depicting which no great artist
can desire to measure himself against Raffaelle. The Resurrection and
the Ascension have been often, if never quite successfully, attempted.
At no moment preceding that in which Pilate delivered the Great
Victim to his enemies would the pathos, the sorrow, and the surprise,
have been so great. At no other period of the trial, the condem
nation, or the execution, could the Sufferer have been represented
under circumstances that would not detract from his apparent
dignity, or harrow the feelings with the' definition of. physical pain
or inflicted humiliation. Tihe noble French version of the New
Testament has led the artist to the appropriate use of the Latin
word, which is less happily rendered in our English translation.
Thus, before a line was laid upon canvas, there was the conception
of a grand picture indicated by the very title of ' Christ leaving the
Prcetorium.' "
Times — "This picture is well worthy of notice, not only on account of
the superhuman interest of the subject itself, but also on account of
its wonderful elaboration of detail. On either side are arranged i'n
disorder, yet not in confusion, a crowd of the Jewish rabble and the
Roman soldiery, in whose faces every passion is most powerfully
depicted. Among them, in tranquil grief, and in an attitude of
resignation, stands the Virgin Mary ; also Mary Magdalen, bathed
in tears. Descending steps which lead dow nfrom the Prsetorium to
the court below, is our Lord himself, the humanity and divinity both
markedly visible in his face and form, and his figure erect with a
dignity arising from the consciousness of his innocence. In the
background above are the figures of Pontius Pilate and Herod
making friends together, as recorded by the Evangelist. The
picture is about to be engraved forthwith. We may add that the
picture is of colossal proportions, the canvas measuring 30 feet by
20 feet, and that it occupied the artist's time and attention for more
than two years. It was in a forward state, though not finished,
when the war broke out, and during the siege of Paris it lay care
fully folded up and buried in a place of security, where it was not
likely to be injured by shot and shell."
Daily News, May 24, 1872. — "This very remarkable work of the
young master of the French school is now to be seen at the Gallery
called after*his name in Bond Street, where for some years past so

12
many of his pictures have been exhibited by those enterprising pub
lishers, Messrs. Fairless and Beeforth. It should be understood,
however, that this grand undertaking in no way takes its origin
from a commercial source, but is wholly and freely a work of genuine
artist feeling, inspired by the painter's own native vigour and ardent
ambition to pourtray a subject of tho most elevated character of
sacred history. No doubt it was designed and would have been
painted without one farthing of the 6,000 guineas now paid as its
price ; it needed no such temptation to impel a painter of such
metal as Gustave Dore, who must be as enthusiastic in his art as
Tintoretto ; and, like that great painter of the one great re
presentation of the ' Crucifixion,' as entirely above all tbiought of
recompense but that of fame, and the gratification of his own high-
Bouled ambition. When we say that this picture is thirty feet long
and twenty feet high, crowded with figures, many of them larger
than life, and that it has been painted in less than four years, some
idea may be formed of the extraordinary energy of the painter, and
the importance of the work. It was commenced in 1867, after
many sketches and studies for the whole composition, as well as for
the chief groups and the figure of Christ, but was delayed during
the siege of Paris, when Dore's studio was in danger from the shells
of the enemy, and it was eventually obliged to be rolled up and
buried in a great metal cylinder to save it from the destruction that
spared neither works of art nor nature jn those terrible days. It
will now remain in London for some time, at the Dore Gallery,
where it is most effectively placed. The picture could not be folly
appreciated by any description, even were it possible to convey in
words the peculiar emphasis with which Dore throws into the coun
tenance of his figures every expression of emotion. No painter of
the time approaches him in this quality, and few surpass him in
giving strong action and varied motion in the attitude of his figures.
Ample scope for his genius was to be found in the vast crowd of a
great capital, all burning with violent passions, and drawn together
by some great event touching their religion and stirring their
brutality at the same time. On every side the eye meets in the
picturp this world of scorn and murderous hate in every form of
feature — Arab, African, Jewish, Roman and the debased and vicious
type of the scnin of large cities. The great body and substratum
of the picture is in the pieturesque arrangement of this material for
form and colour of the most varied and singularly provocative kind ;
the figures of the Roman soldiers in their bronze chain-mail and
shoulder-pieces, pressing back the crowd with their spears, give a
fine ch.iracter ot strength by their brawny limbs, and by their stolid
indifl'erence setting ofi' the fury of the people. The strugghug
masses fill the foreRTound right and left, leaving a clear space of
pavement, on which a group of half-naked savage men stand with
the cross, obstructing thus tho calm advance of Jesus down the
steps of the I'lTOtorium, clad in the seamless garment of white,
crowned with thorns, his auburn hair reddened with the blood that
streams from his pale forehead, but a glory radient around the
sad and suffering head. The figure of Christ, though prominent as
the centre of tho composition, is associated very artfully with that

'3
of the High Priest close at his side, who seems with an older Rabbi
to be still questioning Jesus with the words, ' Art thou the Christ P
while certain Jews listen in attentive awe, as though doubting if He
were not indeed the Messiah. This strikes us as one of the finest
passages in the picture. The Christ seems to look in the direction
where the the three Maries and the other Mary are seen in an agony
of grief, borne back by the soldiers, Mary Magdalen, as a beautiful
blonde, pressing eagerly forward, and completing a group which is
the only part of the picture that shows an inclination towards the
conventional academic style of beauty. Here, however, we find
M. Dore less original than in the general treatment of the subject.
Nothing will be felt by the admirers of his style to be a finer stroke
than the singular idea of making the cross so prominent a part of
the composition, and in exaggerating its proportions, so far as to
detract from the pictorial ordonnance of the work. It was
not in the artist's design to show any sympathisers or disciples,
except the Maries ; he preferred the strong contrast of the
calm figure of Christ surrounded by the tumultuous and
bloodthirsty multitude, crowding over the steps and terraces
and filling the porticoes of the Palace of Pilate, who is
himself a spectator upon the upper landing place. It is in this vast
assemblage that Dore displays his extraordinary faculty for painting
character under the most varied aspects of the picturesque.
We are not disposed, however, to dwell upon any weak point
in a work of such unquestionable power and such noble as
pirations as this ; neither can we complain of the preponderance
of the complex forms and colouring of the picture over the
higher requisites of simplicity and grandeur, as necessary to
these great themes of art. A painter, like an orator, must be
allowed his manner ; if he can impress us with his art, he deserves
our praise and our gratitude. It must be owned, whatever one may
think of the style of M. Dore, he is always impressive. His pictures
of Dante's ' Inferno,' his 'Wandering Jew,' his ' Gambling Salon,'
his ' Neophyte,' his ' Christian Martyrs,' and an innumerable host of
small illustrations, are all wonderfully full of thought, and abound
in artistic facility ; but this last great achievement of his,
tells of more maturedand chastened power in conception,
and much more scholarly work in the execution. Apart from
any consideration as to the technical merits or demerits of
the picture, it possesses the greatest interest, and deserves
the warmest recognition, as the work of the most serious
and earnest purpose by a painter in the very prime of his artistic
career, at a time when all the world of painters are occupied
with the trivialities of technical nicety and the pleasing prettinesses
of genre painting."
Daily Telegraph. — " The subject is the setting out of Christ
on his dolorous way to Calvary ; and when I tell you that
the canvas measures twenty feet by thirty, you will realise
the large mould in which the painter has cast his grand
imaginings. The figure of Christ draped in white is naturally
the central point of the canvas, and indeed the effulgence
that beams from Godhead personified, fills the picture with its

14
Divine light. As Jesus descends the steps that lead from the judg
ment seat to the highway, the Jewish figures that crowd the comers
of the picture press forward to gaze upon Him, while the higher
dignitaries in his immediate vicinity fall back blinded by the exces
sive light that shines in all his figure. To the right the Roman
soldiers, fine stalwart fellows, whose every muscle tells through
their thin chain armour, press back the surging crowds. In the
background are the public buildings of Jemsalem, and the sky is
dark with the tempestuous clouds that seem to be hurrying together
to compass the destruction of the city guilty of the greatest crime
in history. The work in the picture is immense, but it is the least
interest of the composition ; for all the multiform types of physiog
nomy, all the picturesque details of costume, all the touches of
beauty, are subordinated to the one grand, sublime expression of
sorrowful pity that beams out of the Divine eyes of Jesus Christ.
It is by far the largest canvas this artist has yet filled, and will,
unless we are much mistaken, prove the most perfect manifestation
of his genius which he has yet given to the world."
^g° An important Engravhig of tJiis Great Worl- /»¦ ahout to he
publisJwd. Subscribers names may be entered at tlie tables.
2. INTERIEUR DE FORET. (Au HomvALD, Alsace).
3. FORET DE SARINS, COL DU AVALSCHBRUCH, PRES
BARR, ALSACE.
l. EVENING IN THE ALPS.
" ' Solitude' might be the title of the profoundly impressive
' Evening,' where we look into a vast hoUow, filled with blue
evening mist, through which a lammer-geir, followed by its court
of smaller kites and buzzards, wings its royal way, backed by a
screen of darkling cliffs, sparsely seamed with the snow which is
already taking the purplish shadows of night. Little as English
eyes are used to landscape art of this robust order, the writer,
feeling its truth and impressiveness, beheves these qualities especially
sure of recognition from an English public, to whom Switzerland is
such favourite travelling ground. Those who know the Alpine
pictures of Calame will probably be reminded of that famous painter
and not to M. Dore's disadvantage. Before this picture, as before
the nature it represents, the writer feels so strongly the inadequacy
of language, that he renounces the attempt to put into words what
M. Dor6has so powerfully conveyed -with his pencil." — Tom Taylor.
"The most charming specimen of the whole collection, how
ever, to our mind, is " Evening in the Alps,' in which the retreat
ing sun-light is represented with the most extraordinary accuracy.
The deep gloom upon the snow, from which the light of day has
just departed, and the lingering, yet rapidly retreating rays upon
the summits, arc so exquisite, that they produce that hysterical
sensaticti in the throat of every lover of true art, by a sort of mag
netic influence, which testifies alike to the perfect satisfaction of the

IS
spectator, and the feeling of the artist. These are pictures as
meritorious as they are remarkable — works such as very few artists
could have painted, and which perhaps M. Dore is the only living
artist who would have imagined." — BelFs Weekly Messenger.
" In this picture the fading light is treated with great skill, and
with evidence of careful study. The sunlight has died out from the
deep, dark valley : drear and cold, the evening gloom seems to have
lent its sombre colour to the snow on the mountains in the fore
ground, while the jlast rays of parting day yet sparkle upon the
high snowy ridge in the background, and above all, the
crescent-moon is preparing to mount guard over the night scene,"
—Tlie Echo.
5. LA FIGURANTE.
6. THE NEOPHYTE (First Experience of the
Monastery).
" A host in power of design in itself, hangs a really noble
work, called ' The Neophyte ' — a rough but sufficiently
well painted design of two ranges of Carthusians seated in
their stalls in chapel during prayers, and receding in double
lines to the left and the depth of the picture. Their heads
and figures exhibit the utmost diversity of characters and
expressions. Eminent among them is a young monk, who
seems to have just now awakened from his dream ; while the
others pray or pretend to pray. Now, at least, in the mono
tony of service, was a moment of forced leisure, when the
notion of his condition seized him beyond resistance, and
compelled contrast of himself with these, his life-long corm-
panions that were to be. Stiffly he sits upright on his bench, the
cowl has fallen from his head, and the young man, who had
been living hitherto in fancies of a perfectibility not to be
found in the convent, saw- with the force of hghtning and its
horror that this circle of bald scalps was not such as he had
chosen to expect : so he awoke with a start ; while the old
toothless fellow on his right fumbled with his breviary, as if he
needed that, after so many years of devotion ; and the grim and
sulky monk on the other side surlily intoned his prayers through
his nose. The brown man with the long black beard droned
away; the spiteful mortal beyond, the spy near, the ferret-eyed
man, the proud fellow and the rest, were beneath our young
devotee's ideal. There was something wrong about them all :
either they were not worthy of their vocation — a woful prospect
for one living with them day and night for ever — or the office
was unsuitable to them." — Athenceum. '
" This picture may be classed among the Spanish subjects
as some of the heads are from Spanish monks. Its subject is
the dismay of a young monk, but too soon awakened to the
truth that the cloister is not the house of pious meditation and

i6
holy life he had pictured in the enthusiasm which has led him
to take the vows. He is here seen at his duties in the choir.
His pure, spiritual, and intellectual head, stands out in contrast
with a row of doting, drivelling, brutally sensual, abjectly
credulous, or smoothly hypocritical companions. The heads
are all physiognomical studies, and the picture is open to the
objection that painfulness is uppermost in the effect it leaves
upon the mind. The purity of the novice is too much dashed
with wretchedness and dismay to afford relief from the pain
caused by contemplation of the doting, sordid, or savage
heads about him." — Tom Taylor.
"In 'Francesca di Rimini' we have a specimen of the
artist's genius in depicting beauty and grandeur ; in ' The
Neophyte ' we have it in the delineation of rugged character.
A young monk takes his seat for the first time in chapel
among his bretheren of the cloister, and his face wears a look
half amused, half surprised, at the associations of his position.
Beside and behind him each of the four-and-twenty faces
wears a different aspect. Of different ages, from prime
manhood to decrepit age, the story of a lite is almost readable
in the varying countenances that are the index of minds as
varying. Piety, asceticism, content, glutton}', indifference,
sensualit)', and crime are traceable in the attitude and features
of the sitting monks, and Dr. Donavan might compile a
volume in descanting on the phrenological attributes of the
groups of heads M. Dore has presented. Beside the two
paintings previously alluded to, this work excites less admira
tion, as, unlike them, it embodies neither beauty, pathos, or
grandeur ; but it is a singularly powerful painting, an illustra
tion of the artist's versatility that, exhibited by itself, would
command unqualified appreciation." — Examiner.
An Engraving in A qua Forte, by M. Dore, will be published
from this picture. Sid^scribrr s names arc received at the table.
7. LA PRAIRIE.
" In this picture we meet the artist for the first time -in
the character of a flower-painter. Were this picture finished
on a minute scale it might be said to belong to the early school
of the Pre-Raphaelite brethren. It would seem to have
been painted from sketches taken from the level of the ground, as
tlie artist lay at full length amid the rank luxuriance of a mid-
sunmuir meadow. Tall wet grasses, daisies, mari>;-olds, 'rent
balloons of scarlet poppies,' ns Story aptly calls them,"and all the
flowering weeds that ' paint the meadows with delight,' are seen
jnst ns one would see them Ijnng down in their midst, looking
through the stems of a forest, and seeing their many-coloured
blossoms relieved against the sky and the sunshine. Gorgeous

i;
butterflies flit in and out, purple, and crimson and black, and the
mower's scythe lies buried in the rich growth which it is presently
to lay low. Anything more novel, more refreshing, more idyllic
than this dehcious study it would be difficult to conceive." 
Morning Post.
"A most beautiful work is ' La Prairie,' a picture of green grass
and herbs variegated with wild flowers, among which the poppy
lends its bright presence, and over the finely-painted leaves there
are butterflies of every colour, seeming hfe-like against a back
ground of clear sky. Why in this refreshing picture did M. Dore
introduce a scythe, like a snake in the grass ? Perhaps to remind
us of that death which seems scarcely present, in the portrait of the
dead Rossini." — The Echo.
"_ ' La Prairie,' a simple view of unbroken fohage, is chiefly
noticeable for its minutisa of detail, and the marvellous em
ployment of body colour. An extremely clever specimen of bmsh
work, it contains nothing superficially to attract ; the eye only takes
in its numberless beauties on close and careftil observation. It has
less of the distinctive characteristics of M. Dore, and might pass
for the work of some one of our best English artists." — Exa/miner.
8. PAOLO AND FRANCESCA DI RIMINI.
[Francesca speaking to dante.J
" 0 living creature, gracious and benignant,
Of what it pleases thee to hear or speak,
That will we hear, and we will speak to you.
While silent is the wind, as it is now, — ,
Love, that on gentle heart doth swiftly seize,
Seized this man for the person beautiful
That was ta'en from me, and still the mode offends me.
Love, that exempts no one beloved from loving,
Seized me with pleasure of this man so strongly,
That, as thou seest, it doth not yet desert me;
Love has conducted us unto one death ;
Caina waiteth him who quenched our life "
[¦Canto v., Dante's "Inferno." — Longfellovi's trans! aiion."]
" The painting by which M. Dore will take the highest rank, not
as regards this exhibition alone, but as far as any untravelled Enghsh
critic has had an opportunity of forming an opinion, is that
of ' Paolo and Francesca di Rimini.' It is not easy to speak of
this weU-wrought, careful painting in exaggerated terms. The
drawdng is admirable ; the modelling of the shoulder of Paolo
resembles that of St. John in the new Michael Angelo at the
National Gallery. The style of the great masters of Italian Art
has been so far reproduced that, without being able to refer the
origin of this picture to the special study of either of the principal
schools, we should not hesitate to place it alongside some of the
finest productions of the great period of painting. The colours,
the patient conscientious work, the general disposition of the picture,
are all of the same order of merit. No brush but his own was ever

l8
dipped in the blue of Perugino, but the mantle that floats around
the figures is of a real and beautiful blue, which reminds one of
that artist. The floating hair of Francesca might have served for
an angel of Francis. The deadly blue of the wound has an
anatomical truth that is starthng. The eye roves over the fiery
gulf, and pauses on the two well-known figures of Dante and
his guide, and returns again and again, well satisfied, to the con
templation of a noble picture. Let M. Dore paint thus and
his fame will take care of itself." — Art Journal.
" Of the 'Francesca di Rimini' we have only space to say that it is
one of the finest pictures, if not on some accoimts the very finest
picture, that M. Dore has yet exhibited. As a piece of anatomical
drawing, of flesh-tinting, of flesh surface, of fore-shortening, of full
and perfect womanly beauty, we have hitherto seen nothing com
parable to it from the hand of this painter. We know nothing of
Etty's that would bear to hang beside it as a study from the nude,
and very few similar subjects by any other master, old or modern.
The ' Rossini ' and the ' Francesca' alone are worth a pUgrimage to
see." — Morning Post.
" 'Paulo and Francesca di Rimini ' a large picture, painted for
the most part with exceeding care, may be studied with the best
effect by comparing it with the similar subject from the hand of
Ary Scheffer. The two artists have been equally original, yet
equally true to the terrible episode of the 'Inferno,' except that in
M. Dore's picture the fierce sweep of the rushing whirlwind has
been subdued into a softer current of air, along which the hapless
pair are lightly floating. The female figure is very touching, with
the splendour of beauty absorbed in the depth of unutterable agony,
and yet suffused with love stronger than suffering ; the figure of
Paulo is worthy of his companion." — Bell's Weekly Messenger.
" Of the wondrous beauty of Paulo and Francesca di Rimini' no
words can give any adequate idea. Suffice it to say that, when once
seen, the statuesque beauty of the face and figure of Francesca can
never be effaced from the memory."
" Though the ' Triumph of Christianity' must be regarded as the
artist's ehf d'ceuvre, from the complexity of effect it contains, in
our judgment his most perfect work is 'Paulo and Francesca di
Rimini.' In the anatomical construction and pose of figui'e, in
foreshortening, in flesh tint, it is simply faultless. The Francesca
has none of the statuesque set of the school model about it. Every
curve and line seems undulating with life and motion. Love and
suffering beam in the eyes and face, and the fatal wound with the
lurid reflection from the infernal ground beneath teU the tale
almost as well as if the page of Dante were imprinted on the
picture. A more perfect embodiment of female beauty we have
never beheld. It is a woik of sm-passing merit, and justifies the
highest eulogiums it is in the power of language to bestow." —
E.raminer.
^^ An Engraving from this classical Ghef d'oiuvre is about to be
undertaken in the finest style. — Suhscribei-s' navies will be received
at the table,

19
9. THE NIGHT OF THE CRUCIFIXION.
(Les Tenebres.)
" The picture of ' Les Tenebres ' is a work on which the exponent
of Dante has displayed his most brilliant qualities in the composition
and the massing of light and shade. Rarely has M. Dore soared so
high. The subject has tempted his bold pencil, and he has treated it
as a master. The subject shows the moment when Christ renders his
last sigh on Golgotha. Jerusalem is plunged in darkness — a celestial
light illumines the Crucified — the earth trembles and the veil of the
temple is rent — numbers of Jews, terrified by the spectacle before
their eyes, obstruct the streets and roofs of the edifices — a dim ob
scurity reigns in all the corners of the Deicidal city — and yet all is
plainly seen. This terrific spectacle is understood at a glance, and yet
executed with the most minuteness of detail. But you think not of
this marvellous power of the artist until your mind has been over
whelmed for some time in the contemplation of this sublime scene,
then you are astonished at the skill of the painter, of the power of his
composition, and of the dazzling colours of his pencil. The skilful
brush of the master is observed in the smallest details, worked in with
a vigour to which he has accustomed us." — Le Monde Artist, Paris.
" G. Dore exposes this year one of the most complete works he has
ever had at the Salon. It has for title ' Les Tenebres,' and it carries
us back to that final and terrific catastrophe of the Great Drama of the
Passion, to which St. Luke makes allusion when he tells us ' It was
about the sixth hour, and darkness overspread the earth until the ninth
hour. The earth trembled, and the veil of the temple was rent. And
they who had seen all these things returned smiting their breasts.'
(Ch. xxiii. V. 44.) It is from this text that Dore is inspired, and it is
in the tenor of this moment, unique in the history of the world, which
he has rendered in a composition thrilling and grand. Jerusalem is
plunged in the darkness visible, of which the Evangelist has spoken,
a light falls from Heaven on Golgotha, whose illuminaced summit
shows the three crosses, instruments of infamy as well as of punish
ment, on which the Redeemer and the two thieves, who were his
companions in death, have just expired. All the inhabitants have
quitted their houses and they wander like phantoms in the streets and
public squares. Numbers crowd the roofs and terraces of the palaces —
everywere reigns disorder and the confusion so natural at such a time.
The guiltiest endeavour to throw the blame on others. They threaten,
they gesticulate — they curse with their lips — thfey measure «ith their
eyes, and on all those convulsed faces anger reigns with terror ; not
withstanding, a picket of Roman Cavalry, returning from Golgotha,
(where they had been stationed to maintain order at the execution)
traverses this distracted crowd, without losing that unmoved and lofty
calmness which became these masters of the world, and which was
one of the marks of their dominion over them. A ray of light which
falls from above on their helmets and breast-plates, causes them to
shine in the penumbra which surrounds them with a. hard metallic
splendour, which adds a fit and significant contrast to this lugubrious
harmony. The impression produced is veritably very grand and start
ling." — Le OonsUiutiov/rhel,

20
" In the picture of ' The Night of the Crucifixion ' as is always
the case with M. Dor6 he has sought a grand effect in the uniformity
of his work. You perceive the city of Jerusalem covered with the
darkness which spread itself over the land, at the moment of the death
of Christ. At the back in the horizon, Golgotha alone is in sight.
The three crosses stand in profile. The group of soldiers, whose
shining helmets produce luminous breaks in the shade, is a happy effect.
The Jewish multitude, scared with fear, oscillate like a billow : already
the people accuse each other of the death of the Just One. They
foresee the bloody storms, and the terrible anguish, which the death of
Christ would bring forth among men. M. Dore is a thinker, and his
compositions always contain the idea of the grand." — L'Ordre, May
22, 1873
10. ANDROMEDA CHAINED TO THE ROCK.
" Andromeda, daughter of Cepheus, King of .^Ethiopia and Cas-
siopea. In consequence of her mother boasting that the beauty of her
daughter surpassed that of the Nereids, Poisedon (Neptune) sent a
sea-monster to lay waste the country. The oracle of Ammon promised
deliverance if Andromeda was given up to the monster ; and Cepheus
was obliged to chain his daughter to a rock. Here she was found and
saved by Perseus, who slew the monster, and obtained her as his wife."
" Another painting by Gustave Dore has within the last few days
been added to the collection no w exhibiting in the Gallery in Bond Street.
The subject is 'Andromeda,' and the picture forms a worthy pendant
to the well-known ' Francesca di Rimini,' by the same artist. Notwith
standing the number of times this subject has been painted, M. Dore's
conception is marked by originality. Andromeda is bound, not in
front, but at the side of the rock, and her terror at the approach of the
monster is indicated not merely by the appalled expression of her face,
but with stronger effect in the manner of her shrinking, which, as the
arms are bound above her head, results in a bending out\^ards of tlie
entire frame. There is the painter's characteristic daring in this, and
if the attitude is a departure from the accepted academical treatment,
it is probably true to what would be the case in such a situation. No
representttion of the sea monster on tcmvas has ever had much terror
about it. Probabl)' such a thing had better be left to the imagination
to shadow it forth indefinitely, and therefore we tlunk that M. Dore
has done wisely in introducing no more than part of the head rising
from the sea at the corner of the painting." — Tlie Architect.
11. THE DESERT.
12. TORRENT IN THE ALPS.
13. NYMPHS BATHING.
14. GIRL AT VALENCIENNES.

21
16. THE TRIUMPH OP CHRISTIANITY OVER PAGANISM.
(Description by Mr. Tom Taylor, M.A.)
" In this design M. Dord has embodied pictorially the same idea
( of the overthrow o.f Heathenism by Christianity which Milton has
( described poetically, in his ' Ode to the Nativity.' It is the mort
: interesting to compare the painter's work with the poet's, as M. Dor^
when he painted his picture was unacquainted with Milton's Ode,
Some passages of the poem might serve without alteration as des
criptions of parts of the picture. This is the case with the vision
in the heavens seen by the Shepherds, —
" At last surrounds their sight
A globe of circular light.
That with long beams the shame-faced night arrayed j
* The helmfed Cherubim,
And swcrded Seraphim,
Are seen in glittering ranks with wings displayed.
Harping in loud and solemn quirp,
With expressive notes, to Heaven's new-born Heir."
In the upper portion of M. Dore's great design Christ bearing his
cross stands as the central figure of a glory whose light emanating
from Him bathes in its prismatic radiance myriads of the heavenly
hosts, ranged orb after orb, and rank on rank ; some with golden
harps of praise, others with shields of pearl and swords of light,
soldiers of Christ armed for the conquering work of the Word. In
the centre stands Gabriel, the angel of grace ; before him Michael,
the angel of power, shoots down to drive away the false gods, whose
dominion is subverted by the coming of the Son of Man. Far
below in the darkness of the shadow of faihng Heathenism floats
the earth, which till now has been the place of power for false gods,
and of worship of their idols, the work of men's hands. Below the
radient form of Michael the powers of Heathenism, Greek, Roman,
Babylonian, Assyrian, Egyptian, Scandinavian, and Celtic, are con
founded in what is at once precipitate flight and headlong ruin.
The central flgure of the rout is Jupiter,* the father of gods and
men in the Greek mythology, still wearing his royal robe, attended
by his eagle and grasping his thunderbolt, but with his crown
falling before him into the abyss. Juno, his queen, cowers lielpless
as she is swept down, at his side. Chronos or Saturn, the father of
Jupiter, bearing his symbolic sythe, is involved in the ruin of his
progeny — the Prince of Time fleeing before the Lord of Everlasting
Life. With these disappears into outer darkness Dagon, the god
with gold-homed human head and arms, and the belly and tail of a
fish, worshipped by the Philistines and Phoenicians off the coasts of
Tyre and Sidon. This was the idol that fell upon its face to the
ground before the ark of the Lord at Ashdod, when the head and both
pahns of the hands were broken off.f It was before the altar and in
house of Dagon that the people of Gaza were gathered together for
a great sacrifice and rejoicing, when blind Samson bowed himself
with all his might between the centre pillars of the house, and buried
the lords and the people beneath its ruins. J The connection of
* The Latin names of the deities of Olympus are taken as the most familiar
t t Samuel v. 4.
t judges xvi. i^—^

22
Greece with Phcenioia, through the invention of letters and many
arts, explains the juxtaposition of Dagon with Jupiter. Fading into
darkness to the right of this central group are the other chief
deities of Greece and Rome Phoebus Apollo, the sun-god, in his
car drawn by white horses, now dazzled by the Day-spring from on
high ; his sister Luna, Dian, or Hecate, Queen of Night ;
Venus, Mercury, Minerva, helmed and armed ; Pluto, god
of the nether world, with his wife Prosperine, and Ceres her
mother. Bacchus crowned with vine leaves, and hiding his eyeS
from the celestial glory, forms the proper link between the gods of
Greece and those of Asia, the hybrid monsters of Ninevah and
Persepolis, made up of man and eagle, lion, or bull— Baal and Nis-
roch, Remphan and Moloch, who fill the foreground on the right-
hand of the picture.
To balance the subordinate part of this right-hand group, the
painter has introduced on the left centre, the gods of the ancient
Celt and Teuton. The most prominent of these are CEsus, the
Celtic Mars, with the Druids bearing their rods and serpent emblems,
and their attendant priestesses, in their robes of green and white,
wearing oak garlands, and carrying the golden sickles, with w^hich
they cut the sacred mistletoe on their high festivals ; and the Asa
of Norseland Odin, the All Father, first and eldest of gods and men,
with his two ravens Huggin and Munnin (Mind and Memory), that
sit on his shoulders and say into his ears all tidings what they see or
hear in their daily flight over earth and sea ; and Thor, the strongest
of gods and men, with his hammer MioUnir, his strengh-belt and
his iron gloves ; and Balldur, wisest and fairest of gods, source of
light and warmth ; and Freyia, " on whom it is ^ood for lovers to
call," the Venus of Asa-gard, and Bragi, the god of song.
Connecting this subordinate group with the left foreground so as
to balance the gods of Greece and Syria, is a crowd of the priests
and priestesses of the mysterious gods of the Nile, the hooded Isis,
the sacred bull Apis, or Osiris, and the dog-shaped Anubis. The
scarlet Ibis, the sacred bird of the god Thoth, seen flying into outer
darkness near the falling crown of Jupiter, belongs to this Egyptian
group, which is rich in particoloured draperies, and splendid in
those ornamer.ts of gold, enamels, and gems, in which their funeral
monuments and tombs show the Egyptians to have abounded. The
painter, by connecting in his composition the faiths of Asia and
Africa with those of Greece and Rome, and by placing the former
in the foreground, indicates how the roots of Greek and Roman
mythology are to be sought in the earher beliefs of Egypt and
Assyria. Though these elder faiths cnme into conflict with Christ
ianity only in their later forms, when largely debased with Western
rites and dogmas, it is quite fair to represent them as dyiug away in
the light of Christianity, like the Western Paganism" which they
leavened while it leavened thom.
Thus the whole picture is a painted Feean, or triumphal hymn of
Christianity over the impure faiths which it destroyed, not" as the
crped of Mahomet drove out Arab Sabwanism, by the torch of the
invader and the sword of the flesh, but by the light of the Word
and the weapon of the Spirit.

23
" The artist wields a brush of singular power in the laying on of
light, shade, and colour. The refulgence around the central flgure
is as the glory in Tintoret's ' Paradise,' or the golden halo which
encircles the Madonna in Titian's ' Assumption.' Especially lovely
is the colour, where light falls in silvery softness, and breaks as in
opalescent spray shaded by tender blues, and turquoise greens.
Some of these effects are exquisite. The work must be seen by
everybody, and when once seen can never be forgotten. It will, we
learn, be engraved by Mr. W. H. Simmons.- — Saturday Review.
(Vide Key on page 2).
16. CHRISTIAN MARTYRS— Reign of Diocletiau.
(Rome, A.D. 303.)
" Christianos ad leones." The old cry of the Roman Amphitheatre.
One of the most memorable events in the reign of Diocletian was
his fierce persecution of the Christians (a.d. 303). "Sometimes thirty,
and oftentime three score, and sometimes a hundred in one day,
men, women, and children, were slain by divers kinds of death,
(amongst others, by throwing them alive into the Coliseum to such
kind of wild beasts as would devour them : as lions, bears, leopards,
and wild bulls). Honorius and others do witness that there were
slain in this persecution by the names of martyrs, within the space
of thirty days, seventeen thousand persons. Bede says that this
persecution reached even to the Britains. And the Chronicle of
Martinus, and the '' Nosegay of Time" declare that all the Christ
ians in Britain were utterly destroyed, for the kinds of death and
punishment were so great and horrible, as no man is able to express."
" The idea of this picture seems almost an inspiration. The time
chosen by the artist to place the heart-rending scene before us is
perhaps the most appropriate for effect that could well be imagined.
Night reigns in all her solemn stillness ; the stars are shining with
the extreme brilliancy peculiar to an Italian sky ; a vast arena is
before us, but deserted, except by the dead and dying. The Emperor
and all his vile associates, who have been revelling in the delights
of the cruel spectacle during the day, are gone, and the wretched
victims — human beings of all ages — are left alone to the beasts of
prey, who, with the savage ferocity of their natures, are tearing their
mangled bodies in pieces. And yet not alone. He who is ever
watchful of them, in whose cause they have laid down their lives,
sends His angels to carry their souls into His rest. In the centre of
the picture, suspended as it were iu mid-air, these heavenly mes
sengers hover ; and with such perfect skill and beauty has Dore
managed his perspective, that this angehc host appears to extend
into immeasurable space This picture appeals to our tenderest
sympathies, whilst at the same time it is a perfect idealisation of
Christia,n faith, hope, and confidence. It is considered, and with
I'ustice, too, almost his finest work." — Daily Post, July, 1870.
' The ' Christian Martyrs' is a scene so thoroughly original in
conception, and new in Art, that the observer has to pause and con
sider the reason of the effect it produces upon the imagination.

24
M. Dor6's genius is poetic ; he is idealistic almost to a fault. So, in
ihe region of pure imagination, we have a striking, thrilling,
ennobling picture. The stone seats of the Amphitheatre are empty.
The cruel trifling, pleasnre-loving crowd — the stem, impassive
Imperator, or Prefect, or Consul, have passed from the spot. In
the dimly-lighted arena, half-seen by a fitful moonbeam, gaunt and
weary-looking lions prowl over the corpses of the martyrs, or
conclude a fearful meal upon their remains. The shadow veils so
much of the terrible actuality of the scene that there is littloemotion
excited by the view save those of pity and of fear. Above is a
pure dome of dark sapphire sky, glooming into midnight on one
side, brightened by an invisible moon on the other. From the
girdle of ' oes and eyes' floats down ' a vision of angels, which said
that He is aUve,' in whose name the martyrs fell, and who look with
tender compassion on the torn and desolated mortal spoils of those
whom they have convoyed to glory celestial." — Art Journal.
" We confess that we took more pleasure in that one picture ['The
Christian Martyrs'] at the Dore Gallery than in all the paintings at
the Royal Academy put together." — Victoria Magazine.
" He shows us the scene at night in some vast amphitheatre like
the Cohseum of Rome, after a day of horrors spent for the gratifi
cation of an inhuman Emperor and people in the slaughter of men
and women by wild beasts. All the human demons are gone from
the circus, throne, and the grand tier of the noble patricians ; they
have given place to the savage Hons that prowl over the heaps of
victims covering the ground, some of whom appear to be still suf
fering, and one raises his head to look upon the cross at his side.
But above this awful scene the heavens shine with stars, and an
archangel descends with a glorious company of angels to bear off
the spirits of the martyrs to the realms of eternal peace. Such is
the treatment of the subject, and the picture appeals strongly to the
imagination and sympathies, as well as to the ai'tistic sense of the
beautiful." — Daily News.
" It is a most poetical conception. Under the silver moonbeams,
in a bluish penumbra, the vague form of a Roman circus is
perceived. In the arena, here and there soiled with blood, lie the
corpses of some martyrs given up to wild beasts, who are tearing
them to pieces in the shade and silence. The livid bodies stretched
under a starry sky, the beasts creeping and crouching under the
walls, and licking the blood-stained earth, the corpses still warm
and palpitating, fill the imagination with hon-or. But above this
sombre scene hover four winged and diaphanous spirits — angels of
ethereal whiteness. These lovely beings have received the
departed spirits, to conduct them into the ranks of the celestial
army." — The Graphic.
It is intended to publish an Engraving in ths finest manner from the
dhri.ifinn Ma.rtyrs." Siihscribers' names o'" ¦received in the OdLlwy.
17. CASTLE OP SPEZBOURG.

25
i8. THE VICTOR ANGELS (Milton).
" After the combat in which Satan and his rebel legions are
worsted by Michael and his heavenly hosts,
" On the foughten field
Michael and his angels prevalent
Encamping placed in guard their watches round
Cherubic waving fires : On the other part
Satan with his rebellious — "
Night is going dowrn on the scene of the battle. The last rays
of the sun catch here and there an angelic face or wing in the
vanguard of the host of heaven which crowns the hill, at whose
base grovel the fallen angels, baffled and beaten. Down the
hill-side angels troop to form an outpost, in white garments,
with great white wings, and the Hght of the sunset given back
from their spear points." — Tom Taylor.
"Pictures which have been seen in London afford cumulative
proof — if further proof were needed — that Gustave Dor has
seldom if ever been surpassed for creative imagination, for
bold grasp of subject, for wide range through space, for
suggestive significance in colour, for grandeur in shadowy
- gloom. Take, for insta/ice, a highly poetic " Scene from
Milton's Paradise lost". The combat between Michael and
Satan is ended ; night goes down on the battle field strewn
with winged bodies mutilated and gory ; the sun sinking in
anger, illumines on topmost - hill, the white garrrfents, the
pinions, and the spears of St. Michael's victorious host. The
picture is eminently Miltonic." — Saturday Review
19 ALSACE.
" The heart of the man who does not feel as he looks at the picture
that he has a heart, must be callous. To a Frenchman the pathos is
only too deep and real Remarkably chaste and severe in its treat
ment, this fine work forms a chapter apart in the long roll of M. Dore's
imaginations. A tall, nobly-formed woman, with the flaxen hair of
the Alsace peasantry, clad in their picturesque national dri.ss, but
scarfed and hooded with crape, stands before a blank wall, holding —
and holding erect^ — the flag of France. A white gleam of bodice, and
the full red of the lower third of the flag^ relieve the sombre characte
of her attire, without detracting from her profoundly mournful aspect.
An old, old woman sits beyond her, on the ground, with a chubby
.child in her lap, who seems-to be frowning in a troubled sleep. This
is all; but it is a ^tory told with something of the grandeur of a line
of Homer. The desolate, abandoned, but .still noble and defiant,
figure; the grand contour of the physiognomy; the magic lines in
which the drapery of the flag is thrown, -while the truncheon is firmly
grasped, and the point towers towards heaven as if it were the oriflam.e
itself, must be .seen to be appreciated. Once seen, it wall not readil)'
be forgotten." — Art Journal.